Chapter 6
Prev Chapter PART SIX Far away in the same country, a pair of warriors made their way swiftly and silently through a shadowy canyon pass. These were old roads, dismissed as meandering paths to a dead superstition by most all who still remembered them. Rei and Zack had wandered this way before, and knew better. Even though it wasn’t the first time the ninjas had come this way, Rei felt increasingly uneasy about how much the scenery had changed. “This isn’t right,” she called back to Zack, continuing to push on just ahead of him. “None of these plants were here the last time we came this way.” “Uh, newsflash for you, Rei,” Zack huffed in reply. “Sometimes trees grow in places where they weren’t before. It has a little something to do with seeds, and botany, and… well, you know where I’m going with this.” The azure-haired warrior turned and stopped suddenly, causing Zack to screech to a halt in turn. She promptly knocked him on the head. “You maroon! This is a canyon, an arid region! Plants don’t just take root here out of the blue. Plus there are trees here… old trees, the kinds you only see in the darkest parts of a forest.” “Hey, yeah, I guess you’re right,” Zack admitted, rubbing his head. “Now that you mention it, this doesn’t even seem like the same way we went last time. D’you think the Prophet’s got something to do with it?” “That’ll be one of the first things I’ll ask him, to be sure,” she replied. “C’mon, Zack, we don’t have far to go.” Just beyond another craggy wall, the ninjas found themselves standing before the pillared gateway to an enormous hidden temple… the Pikhal Temple. The history of the shrine reached back into the early chapters of mankind’s history, not unlike the Temple of Hiskor. The similarities ended there, however. This shrine was not a ruin, and though unadorned with gold and treasure it had a majesty all its own. This was a temple maintained by the care of men and women who continued to live and cultivate life within, generation after generation. Two such inhabitants, robed in white, came to greet the ninjas even now. They bowed before their guests, and wordlessly ushered them inside. Rei and Zack came to a circular courtyard in the center of the complex. A hooded man draped in midnight blue was kneeling there in prayer, a long staff mounted with a golden statue of a bird clutched tightly in his hand. He rose slowly to meet them. “Welcome back, warriors of the bear and the lion,” he said warmly. “You have both grown a great deal from the headstrong cubs you were when last you visited this place. You do your order and your ancestors proud. It… warms my heart to know that such strength is on the side of righteousness in these dark times.” “It’s good to see you as well, Prophet Wing,” Rei replied, bowing slightly. She tugged on Zack’s gi, forcing him to follow suit. “Still harassing your brother, bear?” Wing laughed. “Only when he deserves it, of course,” Rei answered. “Debatable,” Zack murmured. “But I know that you show respect to one another when it really counts,” said Wing. “In the end, that’s all that really matters.” He gestured to a fountain in the courtyard’s center. “You’ve both come a long way over harsh terrain. Take your fill, and then walk with me.” After gulping down a few cupped handfuls of crystal-clear water, the ninjas followed behind the prophet as he led them through the age-old corridors of his home. “Prophet Wing, we saw things in the terrain on our way here that we are not sure how to explain. There is unusual plant life, taking root in the desert canyon around your temple… why is this?” “The desert canyon is but the present of this place,” Wing answered darkly. “Tuzosia was not always the barren wasteland that it is now. It was once a land of wealth and fecundity, but always it has been plagued by the threat of the dark one who is chained beneath, that Animator of Chaos. In every age the bright power is disturbed, the war begins anew, and men and women like you and I are forced to take the threat to task. When the dust of conflict clears and the dark one is locked away once more, a part of this land must be locked away as well… the soldiers and battlegrounds of the past must sink beneath the sands of history. That is what you see emerge now, as we stand upon the brink of war.” “Well, we destroyed the Animadversionite that was stolen,” said Zack. “Did we, er… is that going to help in the long run?” “The important thing is that it needed doing,” Wing replied with a smile as he began descending a darkened stairwell. “Whether its helpfulness amounts to anything more than a slight delay has yet to be seen.” Zack scratched his head in confusion. “But Wing, don’t you know the future already?” he asked. “In part,” the prophet said. He placed his hand on a great iron handle and pulled open a door to a dimly lit room. “I will show you.” Wing and the ninjas entered an underground chamber lined with towering tablets of stone, illuminated by a series of flickering lanterns which dangled overhead. Images had been rubbed into these panels with charcoal, depicting a series of warlike men, women, and monsters. Even now, a monk was putting the final touches on an image of a man wearing a sombrero at the far end of the room. Rei and Zack were among those depicted. Zack gasped. “Look, Rei, it’s that girl we swiped the Animadversionite from!” he shouted, pointing to a hanging image of Guenhwyvar. “Wow,” Rei whispered. “All of these people are going to become involved in the coming conflict?” “Most already are,” Wing replied. “They appear to me in visions, and I describe them to our greatest artist so that he can assemble them here. I have strived to create a unified picture of our allies and enemies in this matter.” “They all seem so different, though… like this one,” said Zack as he walked further into the chamber. He stopped to point out a picture of a woman draped in black and white. “What kind of army gets chicks dressed like this to do their fighting for them?” “Nun that I’m aware of,” the prophet chortled. “Her alliance is with no army, lion. She is a daughter of the Christ-God’s Church to the West, who lent their support to crusades against stirrings of the dark one long ago. Their commitment to the war against the evil force at Hiskor remains unforgotten, it seems, though their power has waned… they send this warrior alone, the woman with the scent of Lemons about her, as their final weapon. We should be thankful, as we will receive little help outside of hers.” “Your predictions seem pretty bleak,” said Rei, who pensively glanced over the rendering of a man with a mechanical arm and face. “How many of these people are going to fight on our side? Which ones will we fight against?” The prophet sighed and crouched low beside an image of a knife-wielding warrior wrapped in bandages. “This time is different, bear,” he answered. “There will be no clash between the armies of the righteous and the sinister in this age. We face an onslaught of small groups and individuals, deadly all, each seeking the Animadversionite for their own reasons. Few know how important it is that the power be destroyed and the dark one’s host be banished once more… even fewer plan to carry these objectives out.” “And the fighting will just kind of break out as all the different paths converge,” Zack hypothesized. “This is crazy! Our order was founded to stop the spread of another war… this is more like a race to see who can make it to the Temple of Hiskor without getting killed off by someone else!” “A tournament of champions… yes, that is what we face now,” Wing answered. “I believe our first match is at hand.” A great din came from above. There was a great rumbling of stones at first, like the sound of a collapsing wall, followed by the screams of scores of monks, scrambling for their life. All four present in the chamber turned their heads in shock – all except Prophet Wing, who sighed deeply once again. “Battlegrounds of the past are not the only long-gone things which rise from their slumber today. The Dethroned have not forgiven Pikhal for its role in overthrowing their regimes,” he said sadly. “I am not surprised. We must stop them at once!” Rei and Zack turned to each other just long enough to watch the color draining from the other’s face before they rushed up the steps as fast as their feet would take them. They had heard the legend of the Dethroned since they were little more than infants, and knew what level of fear was appropriate in their reaction. Almost every time the Animadversionite was disturbed, its power would ensnare whoever first gripped it so totally that they would be overcome by hubris and ambition. Fashioning themselves warlords, these men would amass an empire of fellow mortals and strike out at the greater world, all the while bowing to the will of the demons who truly supplied their powers. Eventually these madmen were always taken down by the forces of good and dragged behind the dark one’s seals. But each time those seals were breached, they rose again, immortal and unstoppable… The ninjas peered out from behind the door to the stairwell, looking on as a dark man in an enormous suit of dragoon’s armor gripped a shuddering monk with gloved hands that ended in sharp, metal points. He growled demands in an ancient language at his hapless victim, who merely moaned in fear. Seeing that his orders could not be recognized, he threw the cowering monk to the ground. The dragoon raised a sharp and sturdy spear with one hand above his head, deaf to the pitiful cries beneath him. With a wild cry, Zack flew forth from the threshold, preparing to deliver a devastating flying kick to the merciless dragoon. Unfortunately, his foe was faster than appearances indicated. Catching a glimpse of the ninja flying towards him out of the corner of his eye, the dragoon reached out and grabbed him by the leg. The Dethroned dragoon raised Zack into the air with phenomenal strength, laughing at the ninja thrashing futilely in his grasp. The green-haired warrior swallowed hard as he found the cold steel of a spear brush against his neck… His foe roared in pain suddenly, and Zack found himself colliding headfirst with the hard, cold floor below. Rei was slicing rapidly at the joints in the dragoon’s armor, causing the warlord to back away, raising his arms to block her offensive. Zack rose to his feet, rubbing his skull. “This guy’s not so invincible,” Rei breathlessly cried to her partner, “there’s weak points in his armor… and he definitely feels it when I hit them. We just need to… keep hitting at it, and…” The temple shook as another of the Dethroned, this one protected by a suit of armor typical of English knights, charged through the wall behind Rei at full speed. Crimson tongues of some ethereal flame burst out from his body as he ran, making him appear as a smoldering man-shaped comet. His sword was held high, and he was heading right towards the female ninja. Thinking fast, Zack hurled one of his shurikens at the knight’s head. It embedded itself forcefully into the front of the helmet, sending it flying ninety degrees clockwise from its original position. The mystical flames ceased their dance as the Dethroned stopped in his tracks, struggled to right his helmet’s position, and ultimately threw it to the ground. The man underneath looked young, but his hair was white, and his pupil-less eyes even whiter. Zack ran behind Rei and unsheathed his katana, as the ninjas waited for a joined assault. The knight laughed, clapping his armored hands. “Thou art courageous indeed to stand before we mighty lords of the ancient world... I, Sir Red of the Manti, and he, the Wugza Panzer Manathod. But what hope dost thou have of standing betwixt beings of our bewitch’d power and the vengeance we seek ‘pon this land? Not much, verily!” “I dunno about that,” Zack replied, grinning waggishly underneath his mask and raising two fingers on each hand. “Two versus two looks like pretty good odds from where I’m standing!” “Non is verus est,” cried a voice from above. The ninjas hadn’t noticed, but the blood of slaughtered monks was dripping from a balcony above their heads. A savage, barbarous-looking man dressed in the fashion of a Gladiator was standing there, drenched in the juices of his quarry. His face was masked in the shadow of his centurion’s helmet, but a fiendish grin could be seen shining from within. A field of violet energy enveloped the gladiator – like Sir Red, this member of the Dethroned was tapping into the powers he had inherited from the Animadversionite and his dark master. From the field he created a translucent but apparently quite solid throwing axe, composed of the purple ether. Like a bullet it went after the ninjas, picking up speed as it went. Just as swift was Prophet Wing, who whistled through the air with arms spread to meet the projectile, which he intercepted and destroyed with the golden statue atop his wand. He drifted back to the earth to stand among the duo of ninjas while the Dethroned he had foiled hurled insults in Latin at the oracle. “I guess it’s true what they say,” Wing said. “A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.” Zack raised an eyebrow. “That expression isn’t appropriate here,” he replied. “At all.” “You’d prefer it if I were to stick to bad puns?” the prophet laughed, raising his staff as the gladiator leapt to the ground and joined his fellow Dethroned in a circle around the allies. “Man, you guys are terrible at mid-battle banter,” Rei groaned. “Now come on! Let’s show these sissy immortals what the combined forces of the Pikhal Temple and the Kocak Order can do!” Next Chapter